Sunday

Was supposed to be the annual Easter egg hunt for the little kids, at my grandmother’s house, but I don’t even need to discuss it with anyone to know it’s off.  The weather is, well, the kind of weather that makes us do this well after actual Easter in the first place.  Cold.  Rainy.  Completely unsuited to scampering around the yard on a search and consume mission for plastic eggs and their contents.

My mother would be handy in a drought.  Pick a day, have her plan an outdoor event on it, and voila, rain.  It’s very nearly uncanny.

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